Some Like It Hot
by copywritten
Summary: He's a boxer from the wrong side of the tracks, she's a rich princess... two different worlds, one singular desire. Can they overcome the adversity? and successfully navigate the joys and sorrows of young adulthood.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

_the start will be a kiss on lips so red,_

_A symbol of the flames of coming fire_

* * *

I'm so **fucked** up, literally, figuratively.

He meets my eyes, dread pools in the pit of my stomach, and for the millionth time I realize that there is no hope for my affliction, I am incurable. His hand is on my thigh, gripping but not tight, possessive but not controlling. I like it, and he knows it. "You're fucked up Gilbert," He laughs so softly that it's almost a whisper. But that's just how he talks, low, unhurried, sexy.

I wrap my red stained lips around the neck of the bottle in what I hope is a sexy way before I respond "Nope, just getting started" I somewhat slur, and blush at my slight. His eyes darken, and I know this hue, I've memorized it in my dreams, it's the shade it gets when he's turned on. "How old are you anyway?" He asks casually, in a not so casual manner.

"Old enough" I fire back automatically, like I've rehearsed this response.

"Old enough huh?" He gently pries open my swinging thighs "Old enough to do what exactly" His fingers flutter around the outline of my panties and for a second I can't fucking breathe.

I scoot down lower on the couch to accommodate his next move, but it never comes. Almost as if he can sense just how badly I want it. He's playing with me, its what he does. I should be angry; it's the proper emotion and certainly merited, but I can't. I'm too far-gone. Instead of balking, I delight, strategizing a countermove. Slowly, deliberately, I adjust my misshapen top, and silently marvel at how much my cleavage now juts out. Checkmate. He smirks, that fucking Salvatore Smile, the one that makes my stomach quiver and suddenly I don't want to play anymore, I just want to fuck.

His fingers, long and tapered, reach out to trace the outline of my frilly top and a butterfly passes through my stomach as I stare at his strong spider tattooed hand "Nice shirt".

I start to thank him, and I'm mid-sentence when he suddenly he reaches over and pours his beer down my cleavage. It's so fucking rude, so rock and roll, so _him, _and so brilliantly frustrating that I'm too vexed to react. I want to shout and to reprimand him, establish my backbone upfront, but when his lips began to chase the cool rivulets of beer down my cleavage I'm jumbled putty. I grip at his muscled tattooed biceps as his lips touch everywhere, my neck, my lips, my cleavage, His kisses, cool, beer-flavored, and butterfly inducing. I'm lightheaded, drunk on passion, and in the grips of an inferno, but I don't recoil I revel in the burn.

I yelp in shock suddenly as I feel his teeth pull at my nipple through my blouse. His eyes burn up at me, amused at my innocence and darken again as he slips his hands inside of my shirt and bra and roughly yank them down. I'm raw and exposed, hot and bothered but just a little shy as I stare at him uncertainly. He licks his lips at me slowly before biting them and then roughly grabs me closer to him. And it's just so fucking hot when his head, so dark and sinister against my pale breast lowers and licks at my nipple.

I shiver, or more like shake, and I'm slightly embarrassed at my responsiveness, I try to play it cool and bite my lip as he licks rotating from breast to breast. His eyes scorch me with each ministration, daring and taunting, coaxing a verbal response, but I don't give. He laughs softly at my bravado, and yanks my underwear to the side slipping a finger into me and curving upwards. Reflexively I jump up slightly, the digit so intimate, and foreign.

"No running" He shakes his head with a smile. I glare at him and gasp soon afterwards as his finger begins to work furiously inside of me. It feels so fucking good, and when I'm soaking wet he adds another and presses his mouth to my ear. It's hot, and it makes me shiver in response.

"Don't play games with me little girl, I invented em" he presses his thumb against my clit, hitting just the right spot and I fucking unravel. No move, no objection, I'm just a crying, trembling, incoherent mass as I come in waves, and it seems fucking endless, and I don't care about saving face, or anything he's said, I just succumb completely to this feeling, this amazing, transcendent feeling.

I cling to him weakly, overcome with this embarrassing tenderness, and I want to kiss my appreciation and so I do. I give it all I've got, and all that I feel as I straddle his lap and kiss him hungrily, cognizant of every moment, and every detail. And its just perfect, the way his breath fans against my face cool and minty, and how his cologne cloaks us in, subtle but effective.

I can feel the beginning of a great memory happening, one I will revisit over and over again.

I cradle his face softly, tenderly, as I kiss him with fervor, battling against the flutters that spool in my stomach.

I'm not myself. I'm someone else. This desperate, starved, mad woman who's every instinct is Damon, and touching him. My hips move of their own accord, rocking and grinding against him blatantly, chasing at what is sure to come. He grunts his appreciation and follows it up with gripping my ass and grinding me against him harder. My clit bumps against him slightly every time I move and I'm tingling everywhere, I need a reprieve.

Suddenly I'm flipped over, and before I even know what's happened I'm lying on my back staring up at this bronze tattooed God. The aggression makes me want him even more and I study his face in quiet awe, struck by his masculine beauty and tempted to push back the dark lock that hangs rakishly over his eye. I reach for him needing to touch all that I've seen but he smiles lazily and pins my arms over my head.

"No touchin unless I say so" He squeezes my fingers with his and his smile is so boyish and cute I want to kiss him. Instead I cry out in protest and annoyance but say nothing. I know him; this is all apart of his need to feel in control of things. So I go with the flow.

He leans forward slightly, his silver dog chains dangling above my face and I have to fight not to grab them and bring him closer to me. His lips touch mine and I flutter like a butterfly, taking all that he is willing to give.

He breaks the kiss, and blue eyes burn up at me enigmatically before he softly kisses my cheek, the stubble on his jaw slightly scratching. I stare at him confused for a moment, its so unexpected, so unlike him that I don't know how to take it. Before I can process, he kisses down my neck, nibbling and sucking in a way that makes my walls pound. I want to reciprocate, to touch him, to reach him, to leave an impression and not just be like all the other girls before me, but the reaching is in the touching, and he said no touching.

I do buck up against him though, and wrap my legs so tightly around him that we're almost one entity.

He doesn't object, instead he tugs at the hem of my shirt "Take it off" He roughly orders, and I comply without fail. The minute my shirt is off his hands grab my face and kiss me lightly first, then deeper, until we're nothing but a spar of tongues and rushed breaths. His hands move around to the back of me, and caress my back so lightly that Goosebumps coat my skin and I shiver involuntarily. Weakly, I lean into him, moaning into my hand as he presses quick feathery kisses to my neck and shoulder.

I'm so past perception that it takes a moment to realize that my bra is unhooked and he's already taking it off when I do.

"You're good at that "I say just teasingly enough so that there's no hint of my obvious jealousy.

He doesn't respond, he just laughs it off in a manner that's both addicting and frustrating. My straps slip down around my arms and I lift slightly to get them completely off. We're face to face now, chest to shirt, my legs curled around him.

"Beautiful "I gush touching my fingers to his lips and he laughs like I've just said the most ridiculous thing I join in, "Seriously, boys can be beautiful too"

He shakes his head indolently Tsking me, "No touching remember Gilbert". I start to talk shit, but I'm cut off short when he kisses me. I cling to him, never wanting to be separated from his body as he squeezes me with little hugs occasionally, his hands all over my body with light little caress here, and there.

I'm just about to expire when he cups my breasts, lifting them and then playing with my hard nipples. Suddenly his mouth is on me, and in no time at all I'm writhing and moaning. There are no words to describe it.

"Let me touch you" I beg in a whisper, he shakes his head no sucking harder on my nipple before bringing my arms above my head and slowly sliding his hands down the undersides. I'm shaking, and I can feel him smiling at it. He bites my nipple softly "No touching," He rasps before kissing down my stomach, the stubble scratching along with him.

The dog chains slide down my body as well, cool, and contrasting to his fevered kisses.

He's in between my legs now, my skirt hiked up, and my panties exposed in all their pink ruche glory.

"You know how bad I wanna fuck you?" He whispers his blue eyes looking up at me from in between my thighs; he doesn't wait for an answer as he slides his chain over my clad lips. I jerk involuntarily at the cool sensation. "Sweet, little, innocent Elena" He slides the edge of chain into me some.

"Not so innocent anymore though are you" He bites at my underwear with his teeth. "No more daddy's little girl" He grabs at my underwear to take them off and I scoot up to let them slide down and kick out of them. Without warning, his mouth is suddenly on my clit, and a finger inside of me and I moan so fucking loud I just know that the neighbors feel it.

"Damon's girl" He says cockily,

DAMONS GIRL my mind shouts in agreement as he runs his hands down my bare thighs slowly and torturously before standing up to yank his shirt above his head.

His chest is smooth and chiseled, a perfectly sculpted six pack that I want to kiss all over, and I can't help but admire the little fuzzy line of hair that dips into his loose fitting jogging pants as I take him all in.

I'm a shameless voyeur and I watch without preamble as he kicks out of his jogging pants his dark blue boxers the only thing standing in between a happy time and me.

He advances towards me grit and sex, flesh and blood and suddenly this becomes very real and it's happening. He's not some image I've conjured up in boredom, or some breathless dream I've just waken up to. He's Damon Salvatore, and we're about to fuck, because Damon Salvatore doesn't make love. I know this, its no surprise, but still inwardly I cringe like a cornered deer afraid of the big bad wolf. My mind protests for a second, and for a moment its all white noise and doubt, but then a strange calm settles over me and I shift into gear.

I want this; I've wanted it for so long now. He's reaching for a condom, and its still time to back out. I know this. I can say no. But fuck if I want to.

He slips out of his shorts, and stands with all the subtlety of a hand grenade, blatantly proud of what's on display. His whole being is charged. My mouth is bone dry as I soak him in and think his reputation certainly precedes him, and every little dirty detail and whisper I've ever heard about him is true. For a desperate second I wonder if he'll fit and start to chicken out but then he smiles, my stomach flips and I know this is right.

His knee nudges my legs open, and I'm stiffer than a board as he settles between my legs. His blue gaze flickers to my face "Your first time? " He asks so casually, that it nearly catches me off guard.

I say "Yes" in what I hope isn't at all a teary sentimental tone, and then wait. But it never comes.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to Elena" He says somewhat uncharacteristically and strained. It's obvious he wants to do anything but stop and for some reason that makes the statement all the sweeter. And I don't know what I'm more shocked at the fact that he remembers my name, or what he said. I recover from the shock eventually " No I want this" I say firmly my gaze level with his.

"Good me too" He smiles slightly, and it's the closest admission of a feeling that I've ever heard from him. I smile dumbly, "Good".

His stare holds with mine and I feel my face stretch even wider, and I'm smiling harder than I knew was humanly possible. I want to stop, I need to stop, but I'm so giddy, and its just one of those moments where you just can't stop smiling.

He looks at me oddly for a second, and then touches his finger to my lip gently "Beautiful".

I want to shout, to whoop with victory, to Instagram, Facebook, and twitter this moment. Instead I smile mischievously "No touching remember". And mentally high five myself. It's just such a witty and perfect comeback that all he can do is smile and shake his head, and I bask in my clever.

His eyes study my lips for a moment, and then we're kissing again, and my back hits the couch sinking into a mound of propped up pillows.

"I'll go slow ok?" He whispers hotly against my cheek, and I shake my head shyly and give into his slow, hot drugging kisses.

I moan into his mouth as his fingers skim my bare ribs and rise under my hips, hoisting me up. I hold my breath, and then I feel it. It's a slow burn, stretching and uncomfortable.

His fingers tilt my chin up forcefully and when I open my closed eyes I see the quiet command in his. It's a branding, a refusal to be forgotten, and order to be seen. I stare at him starkly in acknowledgement, and it's R-rated eyesex before he kisses me deep and slowly pushes further in.

Reflexively I move up and away, and he holds my shoulders down slightly to keep me in place. "That's it baby… right there" He instructs, and the pressure intensifies as my mouth opens soundlessly in panic and discomfit.

He kisses me passionately and grabs me up against him as he starts to pump slowly."Fuck" he swears on a hiss. "You're so tight, and wet". Its so carnal, and fueled with passion that my stomach flutters and my legs lock around his waist, and I begin to move with him matching his thrust. Somewhere, I can't pinpoint exactly where, but the pain lessens, I get wetter, and it starts to feel great.

"You feel so good baby… just open up a bit more for me…yeah that's it just like that " He groans as my legs widen some more for him. "Around my waist….wrap them around tighter…just like that"

I moan or cry, I can't be sure but it's loud, and fuck if this isn't starting to feel good. I start to vibrate, and I wrap my legs around even tighter as my hips swivel faster and harder. I can't control it, I grip him tighter my nails stuck to his back and suck on his neck causing him to groan. I flutter, and just as I'm careening towards the edge he grabs my jaw possessively and kisses me long and hard while simultaneously playing with my clit.

"SSS… UNNN" I moan long and ragged.

"That's it baby.. let it out" And I do, over and over until I'm sure I'll pass out from the exertion, and as I slowly start to come down he slaps at my thigh and bites my shoulder playfully.

"Not done with you yet Gilbert" He smirks so arrogantly that it's cute.

"I can't.. I can't anymore"

"Lesson one" He whispers opening my legs wider "Stamina" and then sinks in hilt deep, I come instantly still sensitive from my earlier orgasm.

My legs shake and I'm so sensitive it's almost painful. But still I clasp my around arms around his neck as he starts to piston into me, hard and rough. Our skins slap together in the oddest discord but I'm too far-gone to be embarrassed or self-conscious.

All that there is this, and its fucking magnificent. No ore shy little virgin; I'm all vixen and playboy as I clutch his ass cheeks wanting him as far in as he'll go.

He grips at something above me and starts to fuck me harder.

"The first right?" He asks, and I look up at him through a flutter of lashes and shake my head. He pulls out slowly just to the tip, and just as I'm protesting he slams back into me " And the only too".

I cum harder this time, and can't seem to stop as he goes faster, and faster until I feel him stiffen and grunt "Fuck…" He grits, and spasms slightly before stiffening on top of me completely.

I hold him to me tightly, marveling in the sounds of deep harsh breaths. Our skins sweat and stick to each other at odd places, and we're both spent. He shifts slightly, and I immediately mourn the loss of contact as he rolls on to his back and to the opposite end of the couch, our legs slightly intertwined.

A pall of silence hovers, and suddenly I become aware of things I hadn't noticed at first like how neat and orderly everything is, the little cracks in his ceiling, and how damn sore I am. I want to say something, but words escape me, so instead I just lay.

An innate need to leave before I'm left flares up, and I start to untangle myself from him. I'm scooping up discarded clothes, when his eyes meet mine, I linger trying to decipher the mood but they give away nothing.

I start to walk to the bathroom when his hand catches mine and yanks me back roughly and suddenly I'm falling onto his chest. He repositions me so that I'm lying on top of him, and I laugh breathlessly.

"Asshole",

"Yeah but you like it" He grins and its so contagious that I find myself doing it too.

I lean forward and press a kiss to his chest and sit back up to see heated eyes fixed on my face, I know this shade, fuck I know this shade. My stomach twists and I wait with delightful anticipation.

"I think its time we teach you how to ride "He says, and I gasp my response as he slips into me.

* * *

its decided, the story stays... I'm too attached. _the end_


	2. Start of Something

**CHAPTER TWO**

_I'm an atom in a sea of nothing_

_Looking for another to combine, _

_Maybe we could be the start of something_

_Be together at the start of time.._

* * *

After we finish I drift into a light slumber before he rouses me from sleep and we do it again from the side. I learn a lot. I learn to await our coming with excitement as well as dread. I learn the treachery of my own flesh, and am shocked by the frailty of my control and my inability to separate the physical from the emotional. He teaches me that pain can be a part of pleasure, and that pleasure can be apart of pain. And when I shudder to a mind-blowing orgasm and struggle to compose myself I feel the tears smatter my eyelashes, because I have been waylaid from my set path and now have new fears. I quiver audibly at the drugging rule he is able to exert over my body, and the growing familiarity that has emerged between us. I quiver because despite how hard I've tried to keep vigilance over my emotions and hood my senses to him there's still an insatiable void that _only _he can fill. But most of all I quiver because it was just supposed to be this one night, and I know that its not nearly enough… I'm fucking _sprung_ and now there's no turning back. Emotional roller-coaster here I come you bitch.

* * *

My head is pounding, and my mouth is bone dry when I first stir. My legs are on fire, I'm sore, and there's a smarting pain that seeps through me but I still vaguely register the warm imprisoning weight that shrouds me in it's honeyed heat and for a few moments it becomes my whole world. I luxuriate in the scent of him and his warm silken weight as my body slackens into lassitude and I lay listening to his quiet breathing.

I can hear his heart it beats steady and strong. In bitter wonderment I realize that no girl has ever-even came close to claiming this from him. His head is pillowed on my hair, trapping me even in sleep and its just so fitting to our situation. He has me right where he wants me while he couldn't be further detached from it all. I sigh my frustration.

I need to get up, and go home before my parents wake up and figure out how I spent my night.

I make an awkward show of detangling us, as I silently try not waking him. And when we're finally apart the relative isolation hits me immediately, and I resist the urge to burrow back into him.

Because I really need to get my ass home like _now_! Jeremy wakes up super early, and the little shit wouldn't hesitate to trick on me.

I shift rigidly onto my side and will myself to open my eyes. _Bad move_. The glare of the sun is relentless as it floods into the room, soaking up every square inch of it in its torrid grasp and its just downright unbearable. My stomach recoils violently on a heave and I have to swallow to suppress the bile as I struggle into a sitting position.

I try to orient myself in the present, but the bittersweet memories of last night and alcohol pervade my senses, soaking me in its remorseless debauchery. I can literally taste my need, its pungent and tangible and it swells just beneath the surface begging for a reprieve as it's slowly crests and I mentally peel back last night layer by layer. The exertion solidifies my headache and I can feel my muscles bunch and ache as I reach over to grasp a bottle of pills that sits on the end table nearby.

_Thank god for aspirin. _I'm like a junkie in need of a fix, as I eagerly pop off the lid and shake the pills into my hand.

I fumble to the floor; check my phone and head to the bathroom with items I've managed to scoop up as I try to dispel the nausea. My breathing is shaky, and my skin clammy, as I start a winding path down the hall I know so well. I'm met with a slew of framed pictures and family knickknacks that whir past me as I rush headlong into the bathroom. I've barely clicked on the light before I'm curved under the sink and sluicing water down my face. I stay under the cold spray for a few minutes, and pop the drugs fiendishly with a gulping swallow. When I finally start to feel better I dry my face, finger comb my hair, and head back into the living room.

Suddenly fear chokes in my throat, and I have to remember to breathe as I study him sitting on the couch, idly reclining in a diagonal position with his head propped up. Almost as if he can sense my presence, his head turns and our eyes connect and hold, his brilliant and intent, mines dark and cowering.

My stomach cramps and convulses in inexplicable panic, and a nervous energy purrs me through me as I try to formalize words. I draw a blank though, and swallow convulsively when he starts to stalk towards me. My mouth opens and parts but no sound comes and I pray for the power of flight.

I'm fucking terrified. I'm no longer the cool uninhibited girl from last night who can drink like a fish, and verbally spar with the best of them. Instead I'm 16 yr. old Elena, his sisters ex best friend, gangly and uncoordinated and I can't help but feel every bit of my age as I shiver uncontrollably.

Then he moves closer, the light catches him, and I see his sensual mouth curve into a smile of pure satisfaction. It's predatory and feral and I just know I'm about to be eaten alive.

His presence seems to drain all the strength from me and I lean against the cold hard wall for support. I turn away and try to avoid his relentless stare as my chest rises and falls in jerky breaths. I feel suffocated, overwhelmed in his presence, and unable to frame a word of intelligible thought.

When I feel him hover above me, and his arms crowd me in I flinch reflexively. But when his hand catches me by the scruff of my neck and drives my head up I unwarily look straight into his eyes despite the quivering fear. Their darker, so dark that their almost unfathomable, and impossibly, horrifyingly beautiful in his fair face. Then I watch as a familiar light begins to grow in them and the darkness is swallowed up in a brilliance that makes them blaze. They spark, so hot and contagious that its heat floods through me and I moan my need softly.

His hand tightens on my neck and his eyes gleam possessively before he runs an idle thumb over my lip and stares at my mouth.

"No running. Remember?" He's says with such stark desperation that I can't help but wonder if it's a loaded phrase.

"I can't."

In answer he bends me back with a strength that makes me shiver so violently, I long to succumb to it. His kiss is rough, and as demanding as last night—then his hold eases and grips my chin up, his watchful eyes pinned to my face with a silent authority.

"No running" He orders gruffly as his finger caresses my lip, softly, reverently.

"No running" I whisper in acquiescence and dart my tongue out to lick his finger and he grunts his approval and brings my body up flush against his and hoists me up against the wall. My legs wrap around him tightly, I catch my breath, and the room, the house, and the whole city, is suddenly breathless with waiting.

His lips are soft when they finally come, nibbling and nuzzling as they tug on my ear. A bolt of desire, sharp as a knife, stabs through my vitals and I rasp for breath as I latch onto him.

"Mine. Mine. Mine" He says after he kisses my forehead, cheek, and jaw.

"Yours.."

"Damn right and you don't you forget it" His voice is warm as it hums in my ear, interspersed with soft moist kisses that rob me of my breath and curl my toes.

His tongue swirls hot in my ear, as he nibbles my lobe, making me groan, and drugging me into a sweet surrender. I forget where I am. Everything around me recedes, until there is only his whisper, his touch, and his tender aching kisses. After an eternity of intoxication and mad desire his fingers bracket around my mouth, and finally, mercifully touch his lips to mine. I sob with relief and hunger as I clutch him wildly, my shaky arms wrapping around his neck, plundering his mouth and drinking in his scent, as I taste him, sweet as sin. He plunges his tongue into my mouth, seeking me, finding me. We thrust and parry, a feverous blend of lips, tongue, and mouth, matched only by our hips, grind and rock together.

We soft, we gentle, and peak all over again in a zealous haze of soft whispers, and tender caresses, completely lost in this feeling and in each other as we glide towards a parallel universe that only we exist.

It's me who finally breaks the kiss when my phone buzzes loudly and jarringly into the room. I shakily pull away with a laugh, and try to ignore the skip of my heart as I pray that it's not my parents.

It's Jeremy.

I'm contemplative on whether or not to answer it as I stare at the name for a few petrifying seconds. Finally I will myself to answer it and take a deep breath.

"You are so dead, once mom and dad finds out" He laughs.

"Are they up?"

"Nope, but its only a matter of time _dumb ass_"

"Fuck you" I hiss spitefully "And you better stall them if they do or else I'm blowing the lid on your little sock drawer"

"You're such a bitch"

"And you're a pain in the ass, I'm on my way " I hang up the phone and untangle myself from Damon, too embarrassed to look up at him as I scavenge my things in a frenzied rush.

"I'll walk you out," He says, and I don't have time to dissect it because I'm too busy running towards the door.

The warm air strikes my face immediately as I amble out into the sultry heat, hobbling on one foot and trying to shove the other into my shoe. I look ridiculous, and an acute embarrassment settles over me as I silently pray Damon's not watching me look just like the little kid he's always thought of me as.

To make things even better, I'm sweating already and I can't help but swipe at the beads of perspiration with the back of my hand as I turn to him with a sheepish grin.

He's shirtless, and beautiful as the baking rays filter across his tousled brown hair and aquamarine eyes. And suddenly I have no clue what to say or do. There's no post coital handbook to help me out, or latent knowledge that rushes to the surface as I stare lost, and dumfounded.

Does this sort of situation warrant a goodbye? Do we kiss, do we hug? I'm rooted to the spot like a dumb bitch, and all I can do is stare haplessly.

He moves towards me, and I almost sob my relief as I watch him stop in front of me. My heart hammers, and I inch towards him in anticipation, desperate for respite.

He tilts my chin up in that way I'm starting to love, and we stare at each other for a few halting seconds, oblivious of time. A bumbling smile breaks across my lips, and giddiness sweeps through me as I bite down on my lip and lean into the kiss.

It's sweet, and short but the way he wraps his arms around me and squeezes ever so slightly is enough to tide me over.

"Later Gilbert" He whispers against the shell of my ear, and I tremble at the contact before pulling away.

"Later" I smile way too fucking widely, and happily, but I can't help myself, I'm already too far-gone.

I turn around reluctantly, and try to drown out the disharmony of my heels clicking against the pavement as I relive our kiss and smile broadly.

And when I get into my car and gun up the brash engine, I don't stop staring back at him until he ebbs into nothing but a little dot that I can no longer see, and a car honks.

* * *

I know its short but i'm hooked on these two, and needed to write _something_

BTW I can't fucking wait till all my favorite tv shows come back. Best time of the year for TV! :)


	3. Back then

**CHAPTER THREE**

_I must've rehearsed my lines a thousand times, until I had them memorized_

_But when I get up the nerves _

_to tell you the words just never seem to come out right.._

I enter the gloomy confines of my house, and suddenly the illusion is gone and reality comes rushing back in so swiftly and ruthlessly that I'm nearly crushed beneath the weight of its depression.

The actuality of it all tastes bitter, and I swallow against it with a measure of resentment as I climb the stairs to my room. Once inside, I look around for a long hard moment. There are pictures, teddy bears, expensive porcelain dolls, and keepsakes everywhere but not a single thing to reflect_ my_ taste and personality. It's all been chosen for me, much like this mockery of a life I live. My eyes sweep resentfully across it all, until they land on a familiar brown book that I feel compelled to walk over to.

My fingers ghost reverently over a carefully placed yearbook before picking it up and flipping it open.

Dust motes fly everywhere and I cough against it almost immediately but my eyes never leave the page I've selected. Its page 96, I've committed it to memory, along with that brown hair that's just artfully messy enough to be cool, and those knowing blue eyes that lure you in and never let go. And even the picture of him is so beautiful it hurts, and I smile stupidly as our night comes rushing back with vibrant flashes. I love him, I realize, just as I also realize that I probably always have even before I knew him.

Back then, before all the bullshit lies and gossip, and before I realized the invisible lines of social hierarchy that separated April and I, back when we were best friends, Damon was just her fuckup of an older brother that had been banished to military school. She gave me the complete story the day she first moved here, and we sat watching the sun dip into the horizon in a companionable sorrow as she cried about it. April told me lots of things after that, about the strained relationship between her Dad and Damon, about all the drugs and fighting Damon got mixed up in, and I found myself strangely intrigued instead of repulsed. Sure he sounded heinous enough, but beneath the bitterly constructed stories I heard there was an undeniable hint of regret and pain. And although he was always painted to be this villain he always sounded more like the victim. I suppose even then, before even having met him I understood what that agony was like. To be cast out and judged solely because of a few stupid mistakes. I understood the weightlessness of balancing dangerously on the edge, of always wanting but never having, and the emptiness that followed in its wake. More importantly I knew the many shades of loneliness, and all of its gray matter, and through that interminable isolation I felt strangely bonded to him.

Looking back, I think I was more excited than April the day that Damon was finally allowed to come home. There was this gnawing curiosity that had clawed at for me so long that I was desperate to give it a respite as I sat waiting on the porch with April. Who was fighting desperately to keep her fear hidden, while I tried not letting my excitement show? Then suddenly, in a moment I can recall with such clarity and sweet nostalgia, a blue Chevy Camaro sped up to the curb in a flurry of tires and offensive rap music. I swear April literally cringed, but I fought to resist a smile. Almost immediately, I found truth in his rebellion, and an addiction to his danger. And even then I knew that he could and _would _crush me but my heart was helpless against the free fall and so I let gravity do its thing and reveled in the moment. And when he stepped out the car, he became my favorite regret.

Before that day, back when April showed me a family picture of them I remember thinking he was cute in this boyish and charming way. But the years of his sabbatical had been good to him, hell _generous _and age coupled with this tangible air of charisma and confidence made him irresistible. In that moment he was quite possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, if not the most charismatic one and I knew I'd sell my liver on the black market in an instant for just a second of his time. When I think about that day I can still remember the way my stomach dropped, and how I'd never felt anything like it. It was like being on a rollercoaster, there was this intermingled excitement and fear, and even though you knew the drop was coming you still weren't prepared for the fall but when it did happen you felt it everywhere, but mostly in your stomach and in your lungs as you fought to breathe against the nerves and exhilaration.

And even though I was practically invisible to him as he walked right pass me to stop directly in front of April, I saw him so clearly.

"Miss me loser?" He said simply to her, but I laughed like it was the best joke I'd heard all year. It was then he finally turned to look at me, and I suddenly remembered the horrendous braces that crowned my teeth.

April, always polite and considerate, introduced us. But he had eyes only for his baby sister, and I watched with an irrational jealousy as they embraced in a hug I would've killed for.

April dissolved into a bout of tears, all her anger, resentment, and yearning pooling together as she clung to him. And as I had suspected early on, she had missed him more than anything, and that singular emotion overpowered any anger she might've foolishly tried to hold on to and I watched as they slipped instantly back into a brother/sister comfort that I had never known.

I spent the night that day, and any other nights I could get my parents to agree to desperate to catch even the merest glance of him. I saw him often, and sometimes in a breathless hope of a moment he saw me too. We never talked though, but I was simply content to inhabit the same air as him, grateful for whatever proximity I could get.

Whenever he was around, it was as if my whole body knew it. I would tense up and become this awkward girl who didn't know how to act or speak when he was around, so I just kept quiet hoping that the mystery of my nonchalance and forged maturity would eventually draw him in.

It didn't.

He was seemingly attracted to every girl but me, and I watched with a mixture of bitterness and insecurity as he went through girl after girl.

There were days when it felt like I would die from my feelings, and the weight of my expectations pressed me so firmly into the ground of despair that it was a wonder I could still walk. And then there were the rare days, the ones when he would actually _look_ at me on purpose and not just because I'd gotten into his line of sight. But the looks were always fleeting, and subdued, which usually left them open to interpretation. My friends and I would spend _hours _on the phone discussing their possibilities though, which would supply me with enough confidence to keep hope alive.

Then every blue moon, I'd get the feeling that was he purposefully trying to get my attention. Like, intentionally placing himself in my line of sight, or getting really loud when I came around, or coming over to wherever I was at even though he didn't speak. But I would eventually dismiss all of that behavior as my desperation to find something that just wasn't there. Still, even the slightest possibility that I was wrong kept me holding on.

I never told April, but somehow she guessed it and my friends would tease me mercilessly whenever he was around.

_There goes your boyfriend Elena. _They would say so loudly, and without tact that I would flush in embarrassment as I prayed he didn't hear them.

If he did though he never let on, and certainly never acted any differently and for that I was grateful.

I recall watching him play basketball one hot summer day with my friends. I was going on and on about how much I liked him, and it must've annoyed Caroline because she suddenly got the idea to get up and tell him I liked him.

My stomach cramped with fear, and I was breathless with the prospect of rejection as I raced after her struggling to catch up with her long determined strides.

"Damon…Damon" She started calling out, but I quickly muffled her by placing my hands over her mouth and dragging her backwards.

She giggled like it was the funniest thing, and I couldn't have been more mortified if I tried as him and the other players looked over at us in curiosity.

I remember that, that was the longest he had ever stared at me without looking away, and for once instead of hurriedly looking away for fear that I'd be found out I stared back boldly and then he smiled and my heart dropped as I shakily did the same.

The energy changed between us after that. I went from being invisible to his favorite person to fuck with, and even though I'd curse him out like I was bothered I secretly loved every moment of it.

Sometimes he would purposefully bump into me in the hallways, in which I'd stupidly smile and say, "You're excused." Other times he would playfully snatch my bag of chips out of my hand or whatever object I was holding and help himself to it.

But the moment I knew my feelings weren't completely unrequited was the day we were all having a water fight. It was hot, and we were bored so we got the brilliant idea to fill up their old water guns and some balloons left over from a party. It was boys against girls, and Caroline, Bonnie, April, and me chatted excitedly as we changed in to our bathing suits.

Once we were dressed we all headed outside into their sprawling backyard and constructed a flimsy list of rules, which we later broke anyway. Basically no hitting each other in the face, and no water inside the house.

After the terms had clearly been laid out we launched into a full on game of kill or be killed. Bonnie sucked completely, and kept falling down and sliding against the slippery grass as we raced past and around her. April was tentative, and too nice in her delivery but Caroline and I kicked ass and basically carried the game.

Once the first round was done April was promising to be a better competitor and talking shit about how she'd went easy on the guys while Bonnie cried softly because she'd gotten water in her eyes and nose. The boys teased her, calling her a crybaby but we clung to her side supportively reminding them that technically what they'd done was against the rules. So we won the on a technical foul, which prompted another round and a chance for the testosterone riddled boys to salve their bruised egos.

April delivered on her promise, and together we became a nearly unstoppable trio. The boys started getting pissed and bringing their A game, and when Damon starting squirting me in the face I got so panicked and traumatized that I bolted inside of the air-conditioned house.

And although I couldn't see him, I could hear him following in after me as I laughed and begged for him to stop. I must've slipped on something, because the next thing I knew I was stumbling face first onto the couch.

I barely had time to react to the pain shooting through my foot as I felt the press of Damon's wet hard body against my back pushing me further into the fabric.

It was the closest we'd ever been and I could scarcely breathe for a few shuddering moments as I tried to absorb what was happening. My blood rushed, my stomach quivered, and I could almost hear the pounding of my heart as clearly as the infirm air conditioner that screeched it's rickety protest.

There were whispers of sound all around the air that shrouded us in, but in that moment I was only aware of sensation, and touch, and the way that he smelled and felt against the small of my back.

And I swear I trembled when his fingers swept out to brush away the strands of hair that curtained my face, and I felt the air of his breath warm and scented rush across my ear in a skitter of sensation.

"You done yet" He chanted playfully on a cocky whisper.

I felt the hackles on my arm rise and pelt with Goosebumps, as I fought for the will to respond in a quasi-normal way.

"Never!" I laughed weakly.

He pinned my arms flat against the sofa and pressed down harder, our bodies so close that I could feel the warm radiating beneath the cool drops of water that coated his body.

"Say Mercy" He ordered arrogantly, his arms sliding upwards so that they rested just beneath my ribcage before he squeezed slightly.

"No!" I laughed more shakily this time, hoping that he couldn't feel the frantic racing of my heart.

In a moment of sheer blind panic, I squirmed and twisted upwards to try and dislodge him and his arms and hands slid up higher on my body coasting over my hard nipples briefly.

I was so past embarrassment, that my face literally felt like it was on fire.

It was then I felt it, hard and poking and pressed demandingly against me shouting its need. And I nearly flipped my shit. I was all of 12, and it was more scary than flattering in that moment and so I reacted like any girl at that age would. I panicked.

"Mercy, Mercy Mercy!" I cried repeatedly in wild panic, and when he finally let me up I went racing up the stairs and into the sanctuary of April's room, trembling and suddenly cold with fear as I slid beneath her covers uncaring of my damp state.

I don't remember much after that, simply that I was not OK and that for the first time in a long time I wanted my mom. I needed that grounding, and a safe place to land from the spiral of my feelings. That night for the first time in weeks I went home, and when my parents asked me to watch a movie instead of responding to them like it was a fate worst than death like I was usually inclined to do I curled up inside of my Dad's arms. It was somewhere around Jerry Maguire's grand love speech that all of the lights started to fade into a hazy amber glow, and I fell asleep in his arms clinging to a youthfulness that I was reluctant to let go of.

He carried me up the stairs that night, and placed me gently on the bed, and instead of going back to sleep Daddy's little angel fired up her computer and started furiously searching yahoo and Google for some explanation of what had happened earlier that day.

Sex wasn't something that was openly discussed in my house, and back then there was still innocence to growing up so my friends and I didn't discuss it at the age either. I was pretty much in the dark about sex, and all the little quirks that came along with it, but after that night I was well versed on it.

Once I was able to understand what had happened it dawned on me then that he_ liked_ me at least to some extent. There were shades of gray though, because apparently it was something that happened to boys often and a natural reaction. My struggle was in determining whether he'd simply reacted to his body, or to me.

I never got the chance to fully investigate it though because after that day he went back to ignoring me, and I didn't know if it was out of embarrassment, or disgust for my apparent childishness. He was after all three years older than me, so I went with assuming the ladder, which by the way was a crushing realization.

The years passed, our bodies changed, and so did the times, but my crush didn't. I watched him grow, and come into his own, falling in love all again over every time a new facet of his complex blend surfaced and introduced itself.

It didn't matter to me that_ every_ other girl at my school wanted him, or that his relationships didn't extend past a week, all that mattered were the brief fleeting moments when our eyes would meet and spark hotter than any fire I'd ever known.

It was a feeble comfort, and I clung to it like it was the oxygen I needed for my next breath.

It wasn't until my fourteenth birthday that I felt my whole world come crashing down on a hilt.

My clueless but well-meaning parents had decided on a whim to throw me a surprise birthday bash. Which to them meant festooning our shabbily furnished basement with every frothy pink streamer and balloon they could find at Party City and a horribly ugly disco ball.

It was like a scene straight out of the seventies, and to make matters worst my parent were playing all of Karen Carpenters greatest hits and running around quizzing my friends on movie trivia.

I wanted to die.

That is until_ he_ walked in. I swear It felt as if the air was knocked out of my chest and I was suddenly painfully aware of the puffy pink dress I was wearing and the fresh smattering of pimples that had evilly emerged on my cheek that day.

He didn't even speak to me at _my_ party. He just clung to the walls with his friends, his eyes passing over the crowd with a hidden mirth that shouted he was too cool for the scene around him.

Girls flitted to his side intermittently, giggling and coy as they vied for just a moment of his time. And a moment was pretty much all they got. He seemed steadfast in his too cool for school act, and nothing and no one could rankle it. It made him that much more appealing.

After some time we sung happy birthday, and my parents dimmed the lights, fired up the disco ball and finally left us alone.

In their absence, the lighting was actually pretty cool, and I watched with a childish wonder as the prisms of colors circled wildly around the room, caught in the magic of the moment.

If there was ever a time for a first kiss, it was that moment, that weightless enchanting moment where life just infinite and full of possibilities, and stocked with the charm of youth and naivety. A time when just like every other girl, I wanted my life to play out like a John Hughes movie. And it felt like every moment in my life was just leading up to that one quintessential moment where I would finally be kissed and consequently get my happy ending.

My eyes burned with the depth of my feelings and followed his every movement across the room, as if they could somehow silently command him to do my bidding.

But he was clueless as usual, and I almost admired him for that abandon. It hardly seemed fair though. Boys just had this blissful oblivion that allowed them to really enjoy life and escape the angst of their emotions. While us girls struggled to come to terms with feelings beyond our understanding and maturity, and yearned for the impossible.

Somewhere around my ninth cup of spiked punch my emotions became a mess of anger, hurt, and bitter longing and the walls suddenly seemed hindering and oppressive and I felt the unshakable need to escape it all.

I didn't even speak, I just ran like hell, undoubtedly creating a spectacle, but I was too past sobriety to care.

I found myself idling on a swing in my backyard, and trying to keep the world from spinning out of focus as I stared out at it through my haze of tears.

The crunch of leaves sent me whirling around in my seat and I suddenly found myself staring into eyes that glowed even in the muted lighting.

He didn't speak, but the way his eyes softened and lingered on my tear-stained cheeks sent my heart soaring as I wondered what he would do next.

He sat next to me on the adjoining swing, the soft creak of his movements the only sound that passed between us until I could no longer bear it.

"Why aren't you in there?"

"Why aren't you?" He replied pointedly.

I wanted so badly to tell him, but the fear that rose up in me was so overwhelming that I could barely construct a coherent response.

"Its lame, if that it isn't obvious yet" I said dryly.

I half expected him to agree, but I was met with a chilling silence that unnerved me. I felt unsure in my skin, and nervous against the energy that surrounded us.

I remember staring down at the grass, and in the sweetest moment I'd ever known suddenly his fingers laced through mine and interlocked, our hands dangling limply into the night air and moving with the sway of the swing.

I'll never forget those butterflies, and how incredibly wonderful and spontaneous that moment felt.

And suddenly I felt the pad of his thumb sweep across the brush of my lashes and wipe away the moisture.

My breath held as I looked into his eyes, and a few seconds later I got my first kiss.

We kissed forever. Until my lips hurt, and it ached to breath. We kissed until time slipped away, and I forgot where we were, and there was nothing but the butterflies, his lips, and that moment.

It wasn't until I heard my parents yelling my name in the distance that I came to and reluctantly said goodbye to him.

That was the night I went to bed, and screamed into my pillow through a surge of ridiculous giggles, the night that I got the confirmation that I had spent years waiting for. That was also the night April called me in tears, telling me that he got locked up and sent to Juvie.

After that, my world as I knew it changed forever.

* * *

I felt so inspired for this chapter largely due to my own personal experiences. Who remembers their first crush? it was so amazing.. that nostalgia! those feelings, that innocence and I'll always remember it fondly.


	4. Fallout

Chapter 4

**_Welcome to the fallout. Welcome to resistance_**

**_The tension is here, between who are and who you could be_**

* * *

My world as I'd known it had been rocked to the very core, and the most devastating part about all of it was perhaps the fact that no one else seemed devastated at all. The summer lolled on without incident, and the only vestiges of him were the ones imprinted in my heart. A silent stubborn refusal to forget him had been borne out of my tragedy and I clung to it like it was the next breath I needed for breathing. Even April, who had cried for all of a week rebounded pretty fast, burying herself in a sea of books and denial.

It was as if she accepted it all as her due for daring to believe he was capable of change. But he was, and I had watched it happen. I didn't care that the cops had found a pound of weed in his car, and that the rumor surrounding it was that he'd been some type of drug dealer. I knew him even when no one else did and my heart wouldn't even entertain the thought of betraying the blind trust it had in him. I had been his from the moment I'd laid eyes on him, long before he'd even known it and I think even then from the very first, that I would've followed him anywhere he lead. But April was as cold towards him as the day I'd first met her and his latest slight had a reawakened an unrelenting grudge that I'd thought was long gone.

The Salvatore house which had one seemed so big and formidable was now a mere shell of itself without him to light the shadowy corners of it excess. Memories of him seemingly clung to every part of it and I spent days on end there, just latching on to whatever elusive memory of him I could grab. It was the sweetest torture I'd ever known, and for two weeks straight I cried myself to sleep at night gazing at the ceiling in bitter wonderment and agonizing at how close I'd came to getting what I'd always wanted only to have it suddenly snatched away. It was then that I realized that being close to him was the closest I'd ever been to being close and suddenly my heart felt achy and bereft and I mourned the loss of my ability to dream in us.

The days grew lazy and hot from the advent into July. A sort of idyllic calm settled over me as I learned to lie myself and convince my mind and heart that even if he was there he wouldn't have wanted me. At least not in the miserable way I yearned for him. I told myself that no one could ever want anyone as much as I had wanted him and that it was the better this way and eventually I sort of learned to believe it. But there would be these lucid times, fleeting moments of stone cold clarity where there was no where on earth I could run to hide from my own lies. So I kept busy to make those moments few and far between. And there was no better way to get over a guy than to start entertaining the thought of a new one. Overnight, Caroline and I had become boy crazy. It was literally all we talked and thought about, and every ounce of energy that was expended went towards it. We spent hours preening and primping in the morning trying our hardest to look like we weren't trying that hard with natural makeup and loose wavy curls that Youtube tutorials had helped us to perfect only to venture a few blocks down the street to the beach and lie around baking under the sun waiting to get noticed.

My mom who for the most part had been relatively liberal about my new foray into beauty even voiced her concern after some time. She said she was worried that I was losing sight of what was important in life to which I responded with a healthy dose of teenage know it all attitude and told her to chill out. That was the first time someone I'd known for so long looked at me like I was a stranger, but it wouldn't be the last. The days of that summer all blended together in a symphony of self-deprecation and angst, my outlets varying on the weight of my depression and pain.

Some days I would drink until my vision blurred and my body numbed and nothing but the RIGHT NOW mattered, and on those days even when I laughed and danced with abandon, that hollow ache was still buried just beneath the surface and screaming to get out.

Some days I would lie and say I was staying over at friends, only to stay out all night partying, and throwing up with my girls all the next day while we sat around in our hangover misery recounting the glorious events of the night past.

Some days there were cute guys and the soothing strains of the music that played on their radio as we lie on a blanket in their trunk staring up at the winking stars and getting buzzed off cheap beer, and then there were days of searching exploratory hands that crept along my arm as I stood idly by numbed by the liquor and weed that coursed through my veins just trying to feel anything, something. But on all days, there was him, never too far from my mind and always heavy on my heart. The more it burned at me, the more I tried to numb myself.

I guess looking back, I was acting out and everyone seemed to notice it but me, especially April. She couldn't understand my new transformation and so slowly but surely we drifted apart. It also didn't help that while we had all blossomed into ourselves, her growth seemed to be stagnant. She would complain about how flat chested she was, how she didn't feel pretty and then dish out a indirect insult in my direction about how she didn't wear makeup though because she didn't need it unlike some people. All of sudden she seemed consumed with jealousy and a need to make me feel worst than I already did.

At first I didn't notice it, and when I did catch on I tried to chalk it up to her lashing out about her repressed feelings for her brother but it started getting harder and harder to make excuses for her acidic behavior. She never wanted to go to the beach with us she claimed it was dumb, she made fun of our pursuit for guys and told us they only wanted one thing from us anyway, and her behavior balanced between a knowing condescension and downright scorn. Soon she became the main topic our frequent conversations about how sick of her we were and how phony she'd been acting. We talked about our frustration with her so much that one day Bonnie, Caroline, and I were all sitting in her room waiting for her to get ready and talking about her.

"But Did you see the way she looked at me when I asked her why she wasn't ready?" Bonnie asked with disgust.

"I know right? She's such a bitch, and how inconsiderate is it to have people waiting on you to get ready like we called her 2 hours ago and she's still not dressed, like seriously?"

"I don't know why it takes her so fucking long, remember she doesn't wear makeup" I mocked in her voice rolling my eyes simultaneously. We all laughed at that. And then suddenly a quiet unease crept over the room and I looked up to see her standing in the doorway clearly having overheard our bitchy rant. In that brief moment she wasn't the April I had quickly come to loathe but the girl I'd spent hours talking to on the phone, the one I had cried with , the one person I felt knew me better than anyone and a kind of shame settled over me as I glanced at the hurt and betrayal mirrored in her watery eyes.

I felt lower than low, and I couldn't seem to find the words to speak as I watched the tears spill down her face. "I think you should all leave" She said tightly, refusing to look us in the eye as she cried softly.

"April…" I started softly

"Please!" She put up her hand shaking her head wildly" Just leave, I'm such a bitch right? why would you guys want to hang around a bitch"

"I didn't mean it like that but you have been acting different "Caroline rushed out looking every bit as guilty as we all felt.

"Right, because its not like my brother didn't just get locked up a few weeks ago, its not like my entire world isn't falling apart"

"Not like it's his first time going there" Bonnie glared , and I felt myself getting pissed for April at that comment.

"Bonnie" I chided.

"What? not like it isn't true. And it's not an excuse to treat your friends like shit either!"

"Are you kidding me? You guys are the ones acting different. You go out without inviting me all the time, all you can think about is boys , and now you're talking about me behind my back in my own house! And who even knows if its the first time you've done that you all seemed pretty comfortable with the subject"

"Look at how you act " Bonnie yelled "Why would we want to go anywhere with you you're a BITCH"

"Bonnieee-" I pleaded in a whine trying to intervene yet again.

"No Elena! I'm sick of her all she does is talk shit about everything, you think you're so much smarter and better than us, and then you had the nerve to tell Elena that she basically needs makeup and you don't"

"Because you're all idiots" April blew up and I felt my own anger being roused "You used to be fun, and smart, but now all you do is talk about boys, boys, boys boys newsflash there's other SHIT in the world besides boys"

"Coming from someone who couldn't get one if she tried" Caroline retorted icily.

"And what you can? for what all of few seconds before they realize how dumb you are?"

"Well it definitely beats being fat " Caroline shot back and I watch April's face contort into a rage I'd never seen and it was all just so horrible and surreal. It was like I wanted to stop it but it was all happening so fast and getting too toxic to defuse.

"Fat, fat? fat! So I'm fat now?" April screamed tears in her eyes shoving hard at Caroline "You're not even cute without all that makeup , just another big-chested blonde bimbo with low self-esteem"

"What the hell is going on up here and why are you all screaming at each other in _MY_ house?" April's mother intervened gripping the downstairs bannister and glaring up at us as she began stalking up the stairs with angry strides.

For a tortured filled stretch of time April was too consumed with tears to speak legible words, and I watched with growing guilt as she brokenly tried to explain a few times only to fall back into sobbing tears. In all that time, her mother just stood there searchingly glancing at our faces for some clarification but we were all too riddled with guilt to look her dead on or say a word.

What was probably only a couple of minutes felt like an eternity as we awkwardly stood there before April was able to give a clear but teary explanation.

"I caught them all talking about me" She hiccuped" "They called me fat, and a bitch and said no one likes me " April rambled hurriedly crying again as she scoffed at us.

"Elena is that true?" Mrs Salvatore looked at me with such disappointment that I literally wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I couldn't even look at her, or anyone for that matter and so I stared down at the carpet praying that I could disappear into it. April was full on sobbing again, and crying harder than I'd ever heard her cry and I listened awkwardly as I heard her mom pull her into a hug and comfort her.

I looked to Caroline and Bonnie for solidarity, but other than slight guilt they seemed generally unaffected.

"I think you all need to leave, and you can be certain your parents will be hearing about this later"Mrs. Salvatore spoke tightly into the tensed silence glaring coldly at us.

"Mrs Salvatore, I'm so sorry" I rushed out before I lost my nerve, tears falling down my own face.

My apology was useless though, she may as well been carved from stone for all the reaction she showed as we shuffled awkwardly down the stairs and out into the sultry summer air. I felt sick, and guilty all at the same time and the whole incident replayed on a constant miserable loop as I listened to them absently recount the event and voice their anger.

I sleptwalk through that entire day as we tanned on the beach like nothing had happened, like a huge and essential piece of our group wasn't just suddenly gone. It was kind of scary how ok Caroline and Bonnie seemed with it and I silently pondered if they had ever truly considered her a friend and if I too was that replaceable.

By the time I got home I just wanted to crawl beneath the covers and forget the whole day but my mom sat silently in the dark, waiting for me as she took long pulling drags from her cigarette. My first thought was "oh shit this is bad" She only ever smoked when she was livid, and I knew then that it would be a long night.

I was grounded indefinitely, my phone was taken, and I was subjected to a long lecture that made me feel even worst than my harsh punishment. Amidst a series of very knifing words were a few that really stuck out, like her calling me a bully, and her asking me how I would feel if someone did that to me, and her calling me two-faced and spiteful. Her words, compounded with the definite loss of my friendship and the weight of my feelings were suddenly all too much in that moment and I just sort of blew up at her.

At first I hadn't realized just how harshly I was speaking, until I saw the way her face fell and heard the hardness in my own voice and I remember being so scared of my own anger that my hands shook with it. I couldn't breathe against the bitterness, and I was crying so hard and taking all these deep jerky breaths and just waiting for her to hate me as much as I hated myself and everyone else in that moment but instead of delivering a well deserved lecture or grounding she pulled me into one of the tightest hugs I'd ever known and rubbed my hair while I softly cried into her shirt.

And suddenly I felt like the world was all too much, and too cold, and I just wanted the haven and warmth of her arms and my complete weight sagged against her as I limply clung to her. I cried until my eyes hurt, and my head ached, and my mind crumpled with exhaustion. And my mom just let me, and when I was done because there was just nothing left. She led me up to my room, brushed my hair, and fixed me a cup of tea. And then I cried some more too beyond grief and hurt to speak despite having so much to say and somewhere between all the agony fatigue just kind of wore me down and I fell asleep to the blurred vision of my mom's loving and concerned face.

April didn't speak to us after that, and I spent the rest of the summer missing her and dreading the start of school when I would have to see her again and not even be able to talk to her. But then our town decided to split into two sections and open up another school for kids who lived beyond a certain point to reduce how overcrowded and understocked our school had been. If you lived East you went to Central East, and if you lived west you went to Central West which was where April would be going, and the shadier part of town. I didn't know then, but that was just the beginning of our huge social rift. I had no way of knowing that simple geography would shape the very experience of our high school lives, that we'd never be friends again because we would spend the rest of our high school years staring at each over the invisible line of social inequality.

* * *

**Girls can be so catty and vicious right? I know this chapter was a bit slow but I wanted to focus more on the dynamics of Elena's friendships or lack thereof .. and this one sort of hit home because I've caught a friend talking about me too and I was devastated at the time! But this chapter is shaping some very near events! I know its been so long and no one is probably even still on here or will read this but if by luck someone does I just wanted to say I'm back at writing and it won't be so long between updates. Promise! Sorry for the errors as well I'll probably proofread it at length later and make all the necessary corrections. I'm just happy to have wrote something I don't TOTALLY hate after so long.**


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